They Dumped Me—Now They’re Reincarnated and Obsessed? - Chapter 11
“Yan Ze!”
At midnight, Feng Fei shook Yan Ze awake. “Are we going tonight?!”
Yan Ze groaned, annoyed. “No. Are you ever going to take studying seriously?”
Feng Fei exclaimed, “Bro! Brotherhood is about loyalty! If you abandon loyalty for studying, then I’ve got nothing more to say to you!”
Yan Ze stared at him. “Are you five years old?!”
Feng Fei sulked. “You switched classes as soon as school started and even offended our old crew standing up for Class Seven. You know what everyone’s saying about you? They’re calling you a traitor. The whole crew’s scattered. Why do you think I’m dragging you out tonight? If you don’t show up, they’ll really treat you like a sellout!”
Yan Ze scoffed. “Sellout my ass. I’m the boss of this whole damn school. I can be in any class I want. If anyone’s got a problem with it, they can say it to my face.”
Feng Fei added, “Yan Ze, it’s not just that. Someone leaked that you transferred to Class Seven to study seriously. The kids from the sports school have been watching us. If they think Haishi High has no one left to back it up, they’ll start collecting ‘protection fees’ outside the gates next week.”
Feng Fei wasn’t exaggerating. In Haishi, even key provincial schools needed a “representative” student—basically, a school tyrant to hold the fort. If a school didn’t have a real tough guy, local thugs would assume it was full of weaklings focused only on studying, and they’d show up to shake kids down for cash.
They operated like guerrillas—no actual fights, just verbal intimidation, which was often enough to make goody-two-shoes cough up money.
Yan Ze cursed under his breath, then jumped out of bed. “Fine. I’ll go with you tonight.”
He threw on a coat and, thinking he didn’t play games anymore, grabbed a history book to pass the time. Those little historical anecdotes were pretty fun to read.
So Yan Ze, history book in hand, climbed over the school wall with Feng Fei.
On the way, Yan Ze noticed Feng Fei walking hunched over with his neck pulled in. He frowned, rolled up the history book, and smacked Feng Fei on the back.
“Straighten your back. Quit hunching.”
Feng Fei turned pale. “Holy crap! I thought you got possessed by my mom!”
Yan Ze barked, “You look like trash when you slouch! Stand up straight. You cold?”
Feng Fei: “…”
Yan Ze pulled out a roll of bills. “See if any shops are still open. Go buy yourself a jacket.”
Feng Fei asked suspiciously, “Yan Ze, did something happen to you over break? You’re totally different now. You don’t game anymore, and you’re bringing a book to an internet café…”
Yan Ze rolled his eyes. “I took a time machine ten years into the future and had a revelation. Now I’m back to save the world, idiot.”
Feng Fei leaned in and muttered, “Be real with me, bro. Did you fall for that girl from Class Seven? Xie Dingxue? Is that why you’re turning over a new leaf?”
Yan Ze corrected him instantly. “It’s Ting!”
Feng Fei blinked. “Huh?”
“Ting, as in ‘岸芷汀兰,’ get it? Ting! That delicate scent wafting from the waterside… an ethereal beauty standing in the center of the stream… Can you feel the vibe?” Yan Ze was exasperated. He smacked Feng Fei on the back repeatedly. “Go back and study Yueyang Tower properly! I swear it was you in a past life, mixing up ‘Ting’ and ‘Ding’ and ruining my first love!”
Feng Fei blinked, stunned. “Uh… huh?”
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They arrived at a shady underground internet café across from the sports school. Yan Ze descended the dark, narrow stairs and was immediately hit by a cloud of smoke and sweat that stung his eyes.
Most of the kids inside were from the sports school, cigarettes dangling from their mouths, playing games. When they squinted and finally recognized the straight-laced boy in a crisp white shirt, they were shocked.
Yan Ze looked like he’d wandered into the wrong place.
Feng Fei powered on a computer, but Yan Ze simply sat down with his history book. He scanned the room silently, reasserting his dominance as Haishi High’s top dog, and then calmly began to read.
Feng Fei, distracted, couldn’t help glancing at Yan Ze reading beside him. “Bro… seriously, stop. See that guy on Machine No.3? He’s from your class. He’s been staring at you.”
Yan Ze looked up from the devastation of war-torn dynasties and saw a broad-shouldered figure—Jin Zhenyu, the transfer student from the sports school, now sitting in the back row of Class Seven. Jin’s family had money and he was a notorious tough guy. He often clashed with Yan Ze and, in Yan Ze’s opinion, was just jealous.
Yan Ze smirked. Figures. Sleep during class, game all night. Textbook case.
“I don’t care who’s looking. Feng Fei, I’m telling you, history is way more exciting than games. No joke. Not even TV dramas go this hard.”
Yan Ze finished the book and eventually dozed off at the desk.
But the peace didn’t last long.
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Feng Fei had won three straight matches against some sports school kids. After his last win, he cheered a little too loudly. That didn’t sit well with them.
They flipped his chair and grabbed him by the collar. Before they could even throw a punch, Yan Ze intervened.
“It’s just a game,” Yan Ze said with a smile, pulling Feng Fei behind him. “Come on, wins and losses are normal. No need to get angry, right? Where’s the sportsmanship?”
The leader sneered. “Cut the crap. He’s been on our turf this long and still doesn’t know the rules?”
So, they weren’t going to listen.
Yan Ze smirked. “Oh? Is this your café now?”
A student from the sports school grabbed Yan Ze’s history book and hurled it at him.
Yan Ze caught it midair—clean and smooth. Even he wanted to whistle at himself.
He stood tall, holding the book. “History is heavy with meaning. It deserves respect. Who said you could throw it?”
Throwing the book was a signal: talking was done, fists were next.
Other Haishi High kids were in the café too. Sensing a brawl, students started picking sides.
Yan Ze didn’t want to fight. Sure, his body was still in its teenage prime, but mentally, he was far past the age of meaningless brawls. He slammed a few chairs to the ground to scare everyone, then began leading the Haishi High kids out.
“I’ll pay for the chairs later,” he told the owner.
But just as things were calming down, Jin Zhenyu made a move. He raised a chair and swung it at Feng Fei. Yan Ze instinctively blocked it with his arm. The pain made his vision go dark.
“Yan Ze!!” Feng Fei shouted.
The Haishi High boys went wild. They picked up chairs and charged in.
The whole café descended into chaos again.
“Keep fighting and I’m calling the cops!!” the café owner roared. “Get lost! It’s almost four a.m.! Go home before the sun comes up!”
Yan Ze, face pale and arm throbbing, looked at the rowdy teens and sighed.
Then, he raised his voice—clear and sharp:
“Stop! Haishi High, we’re leaving!”
The aura around him lit up like a beacon. That one shout—so clear, so commanding—was enough to restore order.
The boys from Haishi High regrouped behind him, glaring at the sports school gang.
Jin Zhenyu didn’t budge. He stood with the sports kids, eyes cold. Looked like he wasn’t planning to go back to school.
Yan Ze gave a bitter laugh and muttered Xie Tingxue’s favorite phrase:
“Freaking psycho.”
Where did these kids even get all this rage?
He waved his hand and led the others away.
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Back at school, as they scaled the wall, Yan Ze was drenched in sweat. He flexed his fingers and confirmed: no bones broken.
“If it is, I’ll sue his family to bankruptcy!” he snapped.
At 6 a.m., the wake-up bell rang.
Yan Ze opened his eyes and immediately checked his arm.
He had fair skin—thinner than most roughhousing boys—so the sight nearly gave him a heart attack.
A huge patch on his left arm was swollen, red-purple, and angry-looking.
“Thank god it’s not the right arm,” he muttered.
Feng Fei took one look and fumed. “Yan Ze! Saturday—we’re taking the crew and hitting back!”
Yan Ze grinned. “Hit what? Answer me—are you transferring classes or not?”
Feng Fei hesitated, then said, “I’m with you, bro. Whatever you say!”
“I’ll get my mom to handle the paperwork. You tell your parents yet?”
Feng Fei snorted. “No need. They don’t even know what grade I’m in.”
Yan Ze patted his shoulder. “Then it’s settled. This time, we’re doing things right…”
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Yan Ze put on a brand-new long-sleeved white shirt, hiding the bruises before stepping into class.
He’d planned to enter through the front to catch a glimpse of Xie Tingxue, but worried she’d see the bruises and get upset. So, in a rare act of self-consciousness, he slipped in through the back.
Once seated, he saw Mei Jian and Xie Tingxue reading side by side—perfect picture of academic peace. They looked so close, it stung.
Jealous and indignant, Yan Ze made a decision:
No. She has to see my injury.
If she doesn’t feel bad, I’ll cry right here!
He rolled up his left sleeve, grabbed his water cup, and walked up to the front to fill it.
Today’s morning session was history. Hao Feng spotted his bruise immediately and tugged his arm. “What happened to your arm?”
Delighted, Yan Ze showed it off and sneaked a glance at Xie Tingxue. “Got hurt.”
Hao Feng smirked knowingly. “Got in a fight?”
“Just a scuffle. No big deal… but it really hurts,” Yan Ze said with a hint of drama.
Xie Tingxue peeked at him from behind her history book.
Mei Jian yanked the book from her hands and replaced it with his own.
He tapped the desk and said flatly, “Review the key points. I highlighted them.”
Xie Tingxue snapped back to focus. “You’re so kind, Mei Jian…”
Mei Jian gave a long, weary sigh. “Sigh…”
After successfully reeling her back to studying, he glanced up at Yan Ze, eyes full of smug challenge.
Yan Ze gnawed the rim of his water cup and sulked back to his seat.
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Still, Mei Jian couldn’t stop every interaction.
Xie Tingxue, as class monitor, was in charge of collecting homework. Yan Ze had it ready, waiting obediently.
When she came by, he deliberately used his injured left hand to pass it to her.
She frowned at the bruise and asked softly, “What happened?”
One sentence, and Yan Ze’s heart bloomed like spring.
He smiled with satisfaction, wishing he could grow a flower on his head to show her his joy.
“Twisted it,” he said in a slightly whiny tone. He lay down on the desk, sighing, “Hurts so much…”
Xie Tingxue blinked, accepted the homework, and walked away.
Yan Ze watched her back and grinned like a lovesick puppy.
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A media outlet had once asked him, “If you had the chance to return to high school, would you?”
He answered, “Haishi High school was too painful, too exhausting.”
But now, with her around?
Even ten more years of high school would feel sweet.
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After the third period, Yan Ze was struggling with math homework when Xie Tingxue quietly walked in through the back door. Passing by his desk, she left a small piece of bubble gum—strawberry flavored, the kind that made good bubbles.
Yan Ze froze.
He cradled the tiny piece of candy in his hand like it was treasure.
Then he collapsed onto his desk and muttered, “She’s too cute!!”
How can anyone be this adorable? What a perfect way to comfort someone!
Yan Ze unwrapped the gum, the sweetness spreading across his tongue.
He squinted in delight, then folded the red wrapper into a tiny paper crane.
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After lunch, Xie Tingxue returned to class to grab her homework.
Her desk was spotless, and on top of the neatly stacked papers sat a red paper crane—no bigger than a fingernail, its soft wings folded with care.
She picked it up in surprise. The faint scent of strawberry still clung to it.
Her heart thumped wildly. It felt like a tiny deer in her chest had just collided with a mountain of pink sugar.
She clutched her chest.
Yan Ze… isn’t so bad after all!